Officers on the Radio

On Thursday, May 29, I will be hosting the morning talk show on 1440 KMAJ.com, AM, and my guests will be a class from the Command and General Staff College. We will spend the hour from 8 - 9 a.m. visiting with officers under the tutelage of Steve Tennant.

Listen, call, comment.

Military Web Access

There are several posts that will appear within a week. We are hoping the U. S. Government will soon open access to blogs for the soldiers. While at the Kansas Civil War Roundtable a few nights ago, this topic came up for discussion. My tablemates, two of who are high-ranking FBI agents in Kansas City, said, "We can't access blogs either." It's insane.

Jack Holt, who is the "new media" person at the Pentagon, informs me that the discussions are ongoing and action should be taken soon. I have been hesitant to make many posts on this site until the guys and gals who are under the microscope are able to see what's being said about them.

Oh, and Rock Chalk, Jayhawks!

Bonjour, Jesse James!

Missouri should build a monument to Jesse James just for the tourism he has brought to the state! Officers from the Ecole Militaire, the French equivalent of our Command and General Staff College, had the opportunity to visit Liberty, Missouri, and the site of the first daylight bank robbery in the United States. (Is this a great country, or what?!) LTC Frederic Curtaz instructor (right), thanks LTC Retired Ed Kennedy, instructor, for a day immersed in America's Civil War, while Curtaz's students snap photos. I'll share more of this trip over the next couple of days.

Viet Nam Vet Bob Dalton

Topeka, Kansas--I've known Bob Dalton for quite some time. He is a soft-spoken, handsome man with an honest face and, if there was more of it, he has the kind of silver hair that younger men would die for. Bob is also a gentleman, top to toe. Originally from Independence, Kansas--a school mate of famed TV journalist, Bill Kurtis--Bob now calls the capital of Kansas his home. I met with Bob one hot, humid afternoon at Lola's Coffee Shop near our house.

Deb: When did you first arrive in Vietnam?

Bob: I left the states on Halloween of '69. I went from language school at Fort Bliss, Texas, straight over to Vietnam. Arrived at Tan Son Nhut Air Base in Saigon a few days later.

Deb: So, you speak Vietnamese?

Bob: Not now [laughter]. But yes, back then I could get along with the villagers.

Deb: It already sounds like you were a cut above the average troop who hit the tarmac there. What was your function?

Bob: Combat support. We'd be in the field and call in support . . . Cobra gunships, Huey gunships, artillery, they would go through us . . . medevacs for the wounded, that sort of stuff. We were a four-man advisory team assigned to a Vietnamese battalion of infantry . . . usually a major, a lieutenant, sergeant, and an RTO. Our job was to turn the fight back over to the Vietnamese.

Deb: So, this is after Tet, and the US is now into "Vietnamization." Right?

Bob: Yeah [pause]. Well, the issue with Tet . . . it was our greatest victory, but it was turned into a political defeat that got us out of there. We had blown the VC back into the stone age and . . . and that was also the turning point that brought about the final outcome.

******************************************

You bathe when you can; you don't get naked, you just take your bar of soap and scrub your clothes and everything, that's how you wash your clothes, too. I found a shell crater where the tidal water was spilling in and making a pool and I slid in and started washing when, just like a submarine, these eyes and the end of a snout rose above the water. Nobody told me there were crocodiles! He was only 5 or 6 feet long but for a minute we both splashed nearly all the water from the crater trying to get out. . . . I think he was as startled as I was [laughter]. --Bob Dalton

******************************************

Deb: How long were you there before you met Charlie?

Bob: Three days. They dropped me down, I shook hands with the major and he said, "Come on, we've got some action." It was a small firefight. They caught some VC in a cemetery who were dug in.

Deb: Fort Apache. Welcome to the Wild West.

Bob (right): Yeah . . . I don't want to sound too trite here but a lot of it was cowboy and Indian stuff. It was small units against small units, and at night. We got most of our kills at night . . . setting up ambushes on the riverways. If anybody was moving at night that wasn't you, it was them.

Deb: What were your thoughts during that first fight?

Bob: Well, you don't really realize that you are in a war until you see your first . . . I mean, until you see the guy on the ground dying; then you realize, "yep, this is war." You don't recognize it from a distance or even 50 feet away. But at your feet, it's real. I didn't fire a round in that first fight.

*****************************************

We didn't have MREs. We lived on the "economy of the land," as they say. In other words, we lost a lot of weight. We ate fish heads, chicken heads, duck heads. . . . See, I've eaten some strange things. I've eaten dogs, cats, rats . . . . Dog is better than cat. We were out in the Mekong Delta, about fifty of us. There was water and swamp everywhere. When we finally pulled up I found this mud foundation of an old hooch, then crawled in and went to sleep. There was a moon out. When I woke up, this Vietnamese guard yelled out, "Rang Ho, Rang Ho," and he came down and really busted me hard on the shoulder with his rifle. But he eventually got what he was after. The "Rang Ho" was a five or six foot long cobra. He had just snuggled up against me. It can get cold in the jungle at night. Had I rolled over, or had that guy not seen it, that would have been really bad. I've seen a man die from a cobra bite, and it's not good. It took about 30 minutes and his eyes were rolling around. He was asphyxiated. Well anyway, that cobra the guard killed? We ate him for breakfast. -- Bob Dalton

*******************************************

Deb: How did you deal with combat, or, rather, how did you cope with death?

Bob: [pause] I had this . . . let's call it the "switch."

Deb: The "switch?"

Bob: Yeah, you know, when I realized, "Hey, this is your third day out and you're already in it" . . . the switch . . . just the switch. . . that they were things [pause] . . . and, let me tell you, you can get pretty cold about . . . them. . . . You needed a switch.

Deb: When were you most concerned? When was it that you thought, "Hey Toto, we may not make it back to Kansas this trip?"

Bob: Well, I'll tell you . . . if you don't care, you're better off [silence].

Deb: So you didn't care?

Bob: Yeah . . . it's just bizarre. One night I had a nightmare--we were going out on air mobile ops the next day and, you know, in my dream I just saw this big flash . . . just this big flash, and I figured, "I'm dead." So early next morning I put all my stuff neatly away, cleaned up my wall locker . . . and for some reason I thought I was going out there to die. And so we were all lined up on the pad, waiting for the slicks to pick us up, and I was on the radio talking to the pilot and he says,"We've been diverted . . . we're picking up a unit over here about ten klicks away." We monitored that flight and . . . the helicopter I should have been on tripped a wire at the LZ and was blown to bits. So, ah, that was just weird. . . . Had to be a coincidence. I don't believe in telepathy. That was the one time I thought I was going to die. . . .

Deb: Just the one time?

Bob: Only once.

Deb: Were you wounded?

Bob: Well, I don't have a purple heart, but I do have this [holds out his hand]. The only scar I brought from Vietnam is this tooth mark right there where this sergeant on our team went nuts, went bananas, and they took him away in a straight-jacket. He was a three-year man; he wouldn't go home, and he just went nuts.

******************************************

The bridges are very small in the boonies, very narrow, and sometimes they are very, very old. I was six foot something, wore a size 13 boot, 195 pounds, plus another 35 pounds with radio equipment. And so I sometimes broke these bridges while leading my men across. Those people were small; a man might only weigh 90 pounds. And so I kept breaking these bridges and actually broke two in one day. Finally, this friend of mine, a Vietnamese lieutenant, recommended that I be the last to cross when we came to a bridge. My men were very happy when I agreed to go last or just wade across when I could. The Vietnamese were awed by the size of my boots. One night, they were stolen. It must have been for the novelty because no one could have worn them.--Bob Dalton

******************************************

Deb: So, you did one tour?

Bob: Yes.

Deb: You arrived stateside, October, '70?

Bob: Yes. In 1973 I joined the Kansas National Guard. I became a member of the full-time staff in '78. . . . You know, some people say the Kansas National Guard wasn't used. Well, that's wrong. We had 41 dead in Vietnam.

Deb: Yes, I know. Tom had some friends in the 69th and I can guarantee you that they were "used."

Bob: Right. They were at Fort Carson, Colorado, before they shipped.

Deb: Yeah.

Bob: Not many people remember this.

Deb: I know what I was thinking when I saw those tanks crash through the gates of the presidential palace. What were your thoughts when you saw the fall of Saigon on TV?

Bob: That really hurt. . . . That hurt so deeply. That was the toughest part. I got close to the Vietnamese. I had great respect for them. I could just assume until 1975 that they were alright. Then, when the country fell that year, it hit me that my [Vietnamese] division . . . that they were the last to go. After Saigon, they were still fighting in the Delta. Yeah, so you see, I lost. . . . [pause].

Deb: You probably have faces right now in your head.

Bob: Sure. I even have pictures of some of them. . . . You know, it was a common saying, even before the country fell, every GI you talked to would say, "We were winning while I was there." No matter what: "We were winning when I was there." We never lost a battle. Never lost a battle. But we lost the war.

Deb: If you had to describe your tour in five words or less, what would you say?

Bob: A lifetime in a year.

Deb: What are you up to now?

Bob: I retired in January of '99 as a colonel, chief of staff, in the KNG. Now, I'm secretary/treasurer of the 35th Division Association of World War II.

Bob Dalton is a published author who is currently working on a novel about the post-Civil War period in the American West. He enjoys biking and hunting with black powder weapons. He and his wife, Jennie, have remained together for more than thirty years. They have two daughters. Bob is also a distant relative of the Daltons--as in "Gang."

Maj. Jim Donovan

Fort Leavenworth, Kansas--Five years ago this month, U. S.-led military forces invaded Iraq and quickly occupied the capital city of Baghdad. Those first days of the war have already become history, destined to be analyzed and studied by pundits today and for decades to come.

Maj. Jim Donovan was part of that initial troop buildup in Iraq, one of the 101st that rolled in country behind the 3rd Infantry. It was hectic, he said. As they prepared for the invasion from Kuwait, they waited and waited for equipment that arrived only three days before they moved. Three days to unload, test, and repack. Three days to familiarize his soldiers with the tools to save their lives.

Donovan said that the fact they were among the first troops in country meant they did not initially have phones, internet--lots of things that made life more comfortable or kept troops more connected to their friends and family. Ironically, those hardships may have been a blessing for troop morale. As each new shipment arrived, there was celebration. Soldiers were grateful for their gradually improving conditions.He recalled a warm reception from the Iraqi people. Surreal scenes of soldiers and sheiks sipping chai tea were new but would soon become cliche. Donovan said there was an Iraqi Air Force general who opened a shop. He spoke English, so he and Donovan conversed easily, all the while hanging on the wall behind them was a photo of fallen dictator Saddam Hussein's promoting this general.

"A few weeks earlier," said Donovan incredulously, "we had been enemies."

Donovan is not entirely comfortable with the press. He's a little stiff, a little wary, unsure of what to expect. It is clear from his experience and demeanor that he is accustomed to command and control. He is polite, earnest, reserved. The boy from a small town in New Hampshire started out to be an engineer but was derailed when a friend's father encouraged him to join ROTC. He found his profession. Athletic and analytical, the army appealed to him.

The New Englander's first duty station was Fort Rucker, Alabama, a culture shock in many ways. His accent was pretty heavy then (though it has been softened by years of travel) and the Southerners had a little trouble understanding him. He hated the rural area as a young man, but when he went back with his family years later found it perfect for raising kids.

Did he eat grits?

"No!" he stated emphatically, "and I still don't!"

The subject of helicopters creeps into the conversation. His features became animated as he described the UH60 Blackhawk he pilots. The assault/support helicopter is mostly used to move troops. Helicopters were a welcome sight for a soldier, he said laughing. "They always brought something good. They bring you in, take you out, bring you supplies, bring you help."

But aren't helicopters shot down?

He acknowledged that the nature of the aircraft and its mission means that he is often flying within a "threat range," but added that the number of incidents compared to the millions of hours they fly is pretty minimal. "If you're not focused on what you're doing you're more likely to cause an accident yourself rather than being attacked."

Despite all the talk of machines, it is obvious Donovan's focus is on people. Even though he has his heroes--Gen. Blackjack Pershing and his former division commander, Gen. David Petraeus, among them--he is most impressed by his peers. "They keep you coming back," he said smiling.

He spoke about the soldiers who served under him and the rewards in watching them come together as a team, or overcome their fears. He remembered a private who became hysterical, was in tears, as they were going into Iraq. He and his commanding officer thought this guy would make it and ordered him in. "He [became] one of my best soldiers--hardworking, loyal, one of the first to volunteer. There's a lot of satisfaction in seeing that [transformation]."

Relationships matter, whether with Iraqi civilians, fellow soldiers, or his wife and family. He credits his wife with facing the challenges of keeping their family together during moves and deployments. He looks forward to making a more stable home for his kids, a time in the near future where they can remain in one place to finish high school. He has already gotten orders for Korea, though. Obviously, this is a better assignment than going back to Iraq, but it will still mean separation from his family.

As a student at the Army's Command and General Staff College, Fort Leavenworth, Kansas, Donovan and his fellow officers are comrades in an intense program designed to make them better officers. Having been an instructor himself, the major is comfortable in an academic environment and impressed with the "level-headedness" of his instructors. But he believes the people he has met to be the most valuable aspect of his time in Kansas.

"The friendships we have made here will last the rest of our lives," he said.

Soldier Stories

I have never served in the military. The idea is fairly laughable since I have virtually no self-discipline, not much of a sense of duty, and a more-than-healthy questioning of authority. The roots of my appreciation for the military, however, run deep.

Since I am a Southerner, the story starts before I was born.

In our family cemetery at Mountain View Church, Patrick County, Virginia, is the gravestone of Granny's brother, Eldridge Eaton, who "died a homesick soldier boy at Camp Lee, Virginia, Christmas Day, 1918." Granny, just a few years younger than he, recalled the family had gathered for Christmas dinner when the courier came with the news. In the 1960s, my Uncle Franklin would spend two years in the hospital at Fort Lee, having been wounded in Viet Nam.

My great-grandfather was captured at Gettysburg, on the second day of the momentous battle, and became a prisoner of war at Fort Delaware and later at Point Lookout. Some of his cousins and uncles survived; some did not. He did. Thirty years later my Grandpa would be born and Grandpa would tell me his dad's stories, and those of his uncles--all of whom had left the mountains of Virginia to fight for the Confederacy.

My Grandpa went into the army during World War I. He served at Camp Colt, Gettysburg, Pennsylvania, and his commanding officer was Col. Dwight D. Eisenhower. Grandpa had been a coal miner, had breathing problems, and received a medical discharge. Col. Eisenhower signed it and my aunt still has it.

My other Grandpa would sail to France--on a sea so full of ships he could not see the end. He never told me his stories.

Daddy enlisted in the army two months before the Korean War ended. He planned to join his brother, Harold, who was already there. His brother, Bill, and brother-in-law, James, had not been home long from service in World War II. Daddy wanted to make the military his career but Mama felt her first obligation was to be close to her parents.

Every time we went on vacation, we toured military posts. I'll never forget walking through sandy Fort Eustis, Virginia, on our way to Washington. When I tell my military buds we went to Fort Eustis for vacation, they become hysterical.

As an historian, I have researched the stories of soldiers--from the Civil War to today. What motivates them? What do they care about? What is their experience? These questions compel me to ask. And on this blog, I will share the answers with you, dear reader, answers from soldiers serving now and those who served more than a century ago.

Photo by Spc. Mike Pryor

November 1, 2006

Paratroopers from the 82nd Airborne Division practice battle tactics at Range 42 in Fort Bragg, N.C. This photo appeared on www.army.mil.